Ember's POV
I took a seat between Damian and Ethan, keeping my head down. It was my first time sitting at the Hart family table, and I could feel every stare—curious, cold, and calculating.
Then came the entrance.
Stella Hart.
Elegant. Cold. And sharper than a dagger dipped in poison.
Her eyes landed on me like I was a roach on her fine china.
"Oh," she said with a mocking smile, "I didn't know we started inviting guests from the kitchen to dine with the family."
I looked up, stunned.
Damian choked slightly on his juice. Ethan stiffened beside me.
"M-Mom…" Damian started, trying to ease the tension.
But she lifted her palm. "Don't 'mom' me, Damian. I'm just trying to understand something here."
She turned her gaze fully on me. "Who exactly gave you permission to sit at this table, dear? The maid? Or did you just follow the scent of food like a stray?"
The servants froze. You could hear the clink of a spoon hitting a plate.
"Mom," Ethan said again, this time lower, warning in his tone.
Stella didn't care. Her voice was low but sharp enough to cut flesh.
"You think bedding my son gives you a seat at this table? Let me remind you—you are not Veronica. She was raised with class. She was meant for this family. You? You're just… conveniently around."
I blinked, swallowing hard. But she wasn't done.
"I suggest you eat where you belong—in the kitchen. And do me a favor, dear… don't show your face here again."
Damian and Ethan exchanged a glance, both stunned into silence in front of the staff. Neither spoke, but their jaws clenched.
Stella picked up her fork with satisfaction, cutting into her eggs as if nothing had happened.
I stood up slowly, refusing to let the tears fall. Not in front of her.
Not now.
Without a word, I walked away—my steps firm, though my heart felt like shattering.
Ethan's POV
After Ember walked away from the table, something inside me twisted. I stood up slowly, ignoring the silence left behind.
"Mom," I said, trying to control my voice, "why did you behave like that?"
Stella didn't even blink. "Don't interfere, Ethan," she said, her tone cool and clipped. "I know how much damage that girl has brought to this family."
"Whether she came here through a contract or not—she's still my wife," I said firmly, my jaw tightening.
Stella scoffed. "She'll never be. Not in my eyes."
She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she pushed away her half-eaten breakfast. Without another word, she left the table, her heels clicking across the floor like gunshots.
I let out a breath and walked toward the room. My heart was heavy—not just with anger, but with guilt too.
When I opened the door, I found Ember sitting by the window, her knees pulled to her chest, gazing out into the distance. The light framed her like a painting—beautiful and alone.
"Ember…" I said softly.
She turned, her eyes calm but tired.
"Sorry about my mom. Sometimes she's… like that. Cruel without reason."
She gave me a faint smile and shook her head.
"It's okay, Ethan. You don't have to apologize for her."
"But I want to," I said, walking closer. "You didn't deserve that."
As I entered the house, everything was quiet. The soft hum of the evening filled the halls.
Then I saw her.
Ember was sleeping soundly on the couch, curled up like a child seeking warmth. Her face looked pale, her body limp with exhaustion. I walked closer, and that's when I noticed it—her hand.
There was a cut across her palm. Small, but fresh. Red against her soft skin.
"What happened to you, Ember?" I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.
She didn't respond. She just shifted slightly, too deep in sleep to even stir. I crouched down beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She looked so fragile in that moment. Tired. Worn.
Why didn't she tell me?
The next morning, I woke up and found her side of the bed cold. Empty.
I looked everywhere for her, calling her name, but no answer.
Then, I heard a noise.
I stepped out to the hallway and followed the faint sounds… until I found her—mopping the marble floors in an old hallway, wiping sweat from her brow. Her back was bent, her movements slow and strained.
What the hell…?
Just then, Damian came to stand beside me, arms folded, a grim expression on his face.
"Mom gave her cleaning duty," he said flatly. "Those abandoned rooms… she didn't even say anything, just handed her the tools."
My fists clenched.
"She's human being ," I muttered. " give some respect"
Ethan's POV
Today, when I returned home, the first thing I noticed was the emptiness.
Ember wasn't in the room.
I waited.
An hour passed.
Then two.
But she never came.
My chest tightened with unease. Something was wrong.
I stormed out and headed straight to my father's study. He looked up from his papers, calm as always.
"Dad, Ember isn't in our room," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Do you know where she is?"
He sighed quietly, like he'd been expecting this.
"Your mother… she moved her to another room."
"What?" My voice rose.
"She had the maids shift Ember's things this afternoon. Didn't tell anyone. Just decided it."
My hands curled into fists. I turned on my heel and marched to my mother's wing.
"Mom," I called out sharply as I found her in the lounge.
She barely glanced up. "Yes?"
"Why did you move Ember out of our room?"
"She doesn't belong there," she said coldly. "She shouldn't have been there in the first place."
"She's your burden," she snapped, sipping her tea as if my words meant nothing. "And I will not let a girl like her walk around this house as if she owns it."
I stared at her, stunned.
I needed to do something—anything—to clear my head.
The weight of what happened… the injustice toward Ember… it was eating me alive.
I went to the gym, trying to sweat out the anger, but my mind kept going back to her.
She didn't deserve this.
After my workout, still only in my trousers with a towel slung over my shoulder, I walked down the corridor, lost in thought—until I heard a soft laugh.
That laugh.
It pulled me out of my storm.
I followed the sound.
In the study, I saw Damian sitting with Ember, both surrounded by a stack of scattered files. She was helping him rearrange them, smiling softly as she worked.
Damian noticed me first. "Hey, brother," he greeted casually.
Ember looked up.
Our eyes met.
And in that moment, time paused.
She didn't flinch. She didn't look away.
Her gaze was soft… calm… pure.
That one look told me everything.
She wasn't someone who could ever manipulate.
She wasn't the kind of person who would trap someone in a scandal for personal gain.
That smile… that innocence…
She didn't do it.
In the next morning, I was calmly sipping my coffee at the breakfast table when I decided to speak up.
"I'm shifting today, Dad. Moving to my apartment."
Dad looked up, curious. "Why?"
"It's closer to the office. More convenient," I replied smoothly. "I'll visit on weekends."
"Good decision," Mom said, not missing a beat. "At least you won't have to see that bitch anymore."
I put my cup down slowly and looked straight at her.
"I'm going with My wife."
Her face froze. The fork in her hand halted mid-air.
"What?" she asked, clearly stunned.
"Yes, Mom. Ember is my wife. And she's coming with me today."
The table went silent.
Damian looked up, eyebrows raised. Dad shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Even the servants
"Okay, son. You can go," my father said flatly, his voice clipped.